Best Served Cold
by Javanyet
Summary: As the Federation and Cardassia engage in reconciliation, a chance meeting at the Daystrom Institute provides an unexpected opportunity to avenge horrors long past.
1. Reconciliation

The dinner at the Daystrom Institute was intended to be a celebration of collaboration between Starfleet and the new Cardassian government. No longer described as an "empire", Cardassia had been transformed in recent years into a civilian-run republic of a cluster of planets in its home galaxy. Gone were the massive military installments and even its most brutal former officers were re-trained and accepted as civilian consultants in the new, limited, Cardassian defense and security divisions. The Cardassian Planetary Union, as it was now known, was on the edge of acceptance in the Federation. All in all it was a peacemaking and reconciliation process that rivaled that of South Africa in earth's 20th century, though it had been born of the necessity for survival, not spearheaded by individual heroism. "Cultural heroism" was how the Federation described it.

A major benefit of alliance with the Cardassian Planetary Union - in addition to peace, of course - was the free sharing of technology. Cardassia possessed a great knowledge of cybernetics, and although not specifically devoted to such things as non-organic life forms it had proven vastly useful in the rapidly developing Android Culture Project. After nearly seven years the project was breathtakingly close to establishing its first experimental community on Daystrom's planet.

The timing of the celebration was deliberately planned, five years to the day after the death of Jean Luc Picard. After many discussions both formal and casual within the Federation regarding how best to mark this date as a celebration of Picard's contributions to Starfleet and the Federation, it was decided that a celebration of the general concepts and accomplishment of collaboration and peaceful reconciliation might best honor the man who had been so devoted to both.

* * *

"When I think of what the Empty Suits had tried to put together, I swear D it was not surprising but Jean Luc would have haunted it like Hamlet's dad. Talk about the _opposite_ of what he'd want!"

Data smiled affectionately at his wife. It had taken a very long time for her to adjust to the captain's death. In fact only in the past year or so had she been able to react to the mention of his name with smiles and fond memories, instead of sadness and silence. The depth of her grief had been so profound and long-lasting that Data, terribly concerned and at his positronic wit's end, had contacted Deanna Troi to enlist her help. Through many subspace communications and visits to their home, gradually Deanna helped Leo adjust to the loss that threatened to derail the new life she had been so excited to begin. And tonight, Data could see that his his "best beloved" (a phrase he had become rather attached to) was looking forward to the evening ahead. That she could make jokes about the captain's "ghost" spoke volumes.

"I could not agree more," he told her as he helped button up the back of her dress. He'd picked it out for her, a confection of rainbow water-colored velvet. Even after fifteen years he still found endless tactile pleasure in touching Leo as they walked or sat or danced. "A fifty-foot bronze statue with a reflecting pool and shifting constellations of lights," he continued, as incredulous as Leo was, "I can not picture it... nor do I _wish_ to! That would not represent the captain."

Leo laughed and turned from the mirror. "Don't be so dainty... it would be barf-inducing!"

He smiled and kissed her cheek. "You are correct as always in matters of verbal description."

Now Leo stood back and circled her husband. "Thank the gods that Starfleet re-designed their uniforms. You look _delicious._"

The hideous mustard color for Science and Technology had been swapped for a deep red a few shades darker than the other command uniforms. They also had done away with the knee-length tunics for dress uniforms, changing to a well-tailored waist-length jacket with black cuffs yoke and standing collar worn over a black turtle neck. Pretty much a more classy version of the usual duty uniform. It was the color, though, that Leo loved best. It contrasted Data's pale complexion to perfection. Or so she had declared, and he was not inclined to argue.

"As do you, my best beloved. But I believe your appetite would be best saved for dinner." He extended his arm in a gallant gesture.

She took it with exaggerated elegance. "Noted. Let's roll!"

* * *

The seating had been carefully arranged to mix species and different Federation memberships, so Leo was not surprised when she saw several Cardassians seated at their table. The clearly older one wore the uniform of an Intelligence and Defense. His two companions appeared to be security attaches. Given that many of the "consultants" in the new Cardassian Union were formerly military commanders, security was provided at large gatherings.

As Data and Leo approached the elder Cardassian rose formally. "Ah, I have been looking forward to this with great anticipation." He extended his hand to Data. "You are Commander Data, the founder of this wondrous adventure."

"I thank you for the compliment, but I am surely not the founder," Data demurred as he shook the offered hand. "Merely an equal participant."

Leo stared at him for a moment, then added, "An 'equal participant' with more than a casual interest and unique technical contributions, thank you very much."

"My wife, Leora Soong," Data announced with a smile. "She is fond of embellishing my statements."

"Yes, yes, Leora Soong. Without master organizers like yourself our work would be nothing but orbiting thought patterns without cohesion. It is a great pleasure." The Cardassian shook Leo's hand warmly. "Please, join us. It will be a dry official evening in part, I am told. Good companions will make it pass more pleasantly."

As they settled themselves Leo greeted the other two Cardassians, then addressed the elder. "You have the advantage, I think. You know who we are, but I'm afraid I don't.."

"Oh my yes, forgive me," he apologized. "I am Cardassian Intelligence and Defense Consultant Destar Madred."


	2. Synchronicity

Leo froze. "Madred." The name hung in the air like an unexploded bomb.

"Yes... forgive me, have we met? You seem to know me after all."

Data gripped Leo's hand under the table. "No, however my wife has a fine memory for names and history. No doubt she has heard yours, as many of the new consultants fulfilled other duties in the past."

Leo jerked her hand away from Data's and ignored the way he was looking at her. _Be calm, _it said. In that, she wouldn't disappoint him.

"Madred," she repeated smoothly. "Formerly of Celtris III, formerly Gul Madred."

Madred looked caught out, and genuinely uncomfortable. "Yes, I was Chief Intelligence Officer there during the wars. Forgive me, Leora... may I presume to call you Leora? Many Cardassians must admit to excesses that were committed during the wars, things that are distressing in memory that we would not have done in other circumstances. We hope to reconcile our past with hopes of a better future. I would not have come if I did not hope that were possible. Forgive me... the past is a painful subject."

_"Forgive me"... he says that a lot._ Madred was soft spoken and charming, the picture of a pleasant older gentleman of any species. There was not a hint of insincerity in his words. But Leo knew exactly who and what he was. No amount of time or "reconciliation" could change what he had done.

"Of course, Mr. Madred," she agreed, "We all have past experiences that we'd rather not remember, but cannot forget. And that's why we're all here, to try to make up for some of that unhappy past. Those _excesses._" She smiled and laid her hand on Data's arm. "It's why we do what we do, right D?"

"Of course." He tried not to look to closely at Leo. She seemed to have recovered from the surprise of their dinner companion's identity, still... he would give a fortune in gold-pressed latinum to have Deanna's betazoid assistance at this moment.

* * *

The evening continued as predicted, the dry speech-laden preliminaries seeming to take forever, with dinner and dancing yet to come. Data's concerns faded as Leo chatted amiably with Madred and his security team. Nothing more about the wars, or unhappy memories. That she did not mention her Starfleet career prior to Daystrom first struck him as curious, until he realized that it would only bring up unpleasant things that nobody wanted to discuss. Data was pleased with Leo's ability to engage in the spirit of reconciliation despite the knowledge of their companion's former role as captor during Captain Picard's imprisonment on Celtris III. Given the human (and other species) ability to remember past wrongs as if they had occurred mere hours ago, the concept of reconciliation was one that both impressed and occasionally confused Data. While not ignoring or even forgiving past wrongs, at its core reconciliation was a determination to concentrate on the future rather than the past. Where it had been possible in history, it had led to great progress.

"I'm about to dry up and blow away," Leo announced as the conclusion of yet another speech merged seamlessly with the beginning of the next. Both Data and Madred immediately offered to go to the bar and fetch some drinks.

"No, no, you two sit and enjoy the questionable entertainment," she laughed and turned to one of Madred's security men. "Mr. Rugal, would you mind giving me a hand? You seem very bored! Will Crystal Blue Sparkling water be all right?" The others nodded and she took off for the bar with Rugal in tow, talking to him a mile a minute.

"Your wife is most entertaining, Commander Data. I believe she could carry on a conversation on most any topic, with a mute companion!" joked Madred.

"Yes, her social skills are most impressive," Data agreed, feeling rather sorry for the somewhat reticent Rugal as he watched the Cardassian struggling to keep up with Leo as she spoke. "She cannot bear to see anyone sitting silent for very long."

By the time Leo and Rugal returned with two trays of drinks the speechifying part of the evening had concluded. There was to be a fifteen minute interval before wait staff would circulate to take dinner orders. Apparently feeling great sympathy for the patience of his security team, Madred dismissed them.

"Go, you have been patient enough. You are welcome to join us for dinner, or you may eat with your colleagues and return later."

The offer was gratefully accepted. Nobody had ever been assassinated at a party like this... though they were apt to die of boredom.

"Data, do you mind if I borrow Mr. Madred for a bit? I expect he hasn't seen our crystal garden. It's very beautiful at night."

"Crystal garden?" the Cardassian inquired.

"Yes," Data explained, "we have an area where the dilithium and other crystals necessary for our project are 'grown'. It has proven much more effective than a laboratory, as the crystals seem to develop more rapidly in an open environment. And as my wife has noted, it serves an additional aesthetic purpose."

Madred smiled widely, a brave thing for a species who could never look anything but wicked when doing so. "That sounds delightful. Mrs. Soong?" He extended his arm, and she took it.

"Be back soon, D."

* * *

When they reached the portal that led to the garden, Madred gasped in surprise. The 'garden' was filled with crystals of all heights and colors. The reflected light of the Daystrom planet's three moons and two suns created the impression that some of them were lit from within, while others were phosphorescent and glowed of their own accord. A chemical fountain fed the channels that ran between the rows of crystals, nourishing them and speeding their development.

"You were quite right, this is most beautiful," Madred confirmed. "Thank you for sharing this, Mrs. Soong."

Leo withdrew her hand from his arm and took a step back. "Oh, please call me Leo."

"Leo?" he repeated, with some confusion.

"Yes. Leo O'Reilly Soong. Formerly Leo O'Reilly, formerly Administrative Executive Officer aboard the USS Enterprise. Formerly serving my entire career under Captain Jean Luc Picard. Who you came to know rather well."

The confusion on Madred's face was replaced with unease. "Yes. A most unfortunate incident."

"An 'incident'," Leo echoed in a chill voice. "What a lovely euphemism. Kind of like 'excesses'."

As they stood face to face in the moonlight the past rose up around them. No longer a civilian consultant and a technology administrator, in Leo's eyes they were again the master torturer and and the administrative exec who had danced through a minefield of Plausible Deniability. He had escaped with a reduction in rank, she with a rage that had never entirely cooled.

"We cannot undo the past," Madred said. "What happened when I was director of Intelligence on Celtris III..."

"_Intelligence!_" Leo sneered. "An insult to the word, and a pretty word for _torture_. That's what you were, and _all_ you were, a torturer. No intelligence needed. Your type are ignorant and powerless, you inflict pain to make up for your own lack of _anything_ worthwhile. And you enjoy it." Madred tried to speak, but she cut him off. "Don't bother to lie about it. Whoever you think you are now, you _enjoyed_ it then. I heard it from my captain often enough when he first came back, what was left of him anyway, how much you enjoyed it. Did you know that the damage was permanent?"

Now he found his voice. "Not so, the unit we used inflicted pain only, no permanent damage."

"Listen to yourself. 'Pain only'. How nice. Did you forget what happened to his heart years later? How he was tortured all over again, dying by inches, thanks to the aftereffects of that 'unit'? Even before that, did you know how long it took him to become himself again when the game was up? There were things in him, parts of him, that never did heal."

"You were very close," Madred said in a quiet voice. "I remember now. You gave up your commission to obtain the information that saved his life."

"That's right, GUL Madred. Your little 'excesses' had quite the ripple effect."

"Then it says a great deal that you are here. That you came here, as you said earlier, to engage in reconciliation."

Leo only barely managed to keep her voice down as she backed Madred toward the fountain.

"Guess again." She pulled from her sleeve the Cardassian weapon she'd lifted from the security guard while she confused him with mindless chatter. She'd learned a lot about many types of weapons while in Starfleet, even if she'd never had to use them much.

"I'm not here for reconciliation."

"What then, after so many years?" Madred asked, though by then the answer was clear.

Leo smiled the kind of smile that she'd seen on countless Cardassian faces before replying.

"Synchronicity. I'm sure you've heard the Klingon saying, revenge is a dish best served cold?" She looked around and took a deep cleansing breath of the night air. "I wasn't expecting it, but tonight's just about cold enough."

Leo pressed the Kill icon and Madred dropped without a sound. She stepped over his body to drop the weapon in the fountain; the chemicals would erase any trace of her DNA. She didn't spare a backward look as she returned to the celebration.

"Did Mr. Madred enjoy the crystal garden?" Data asked, then noticed Leo was approaching alone. "Where has he gone?"

She sat before answering, "One of his security pulled him away, I don't know why. It seemed important, so I left them there."

It was normal enough, but Data found Leo's smile rather curious. He was well acquainted with all of her facial expressions. This one was most evident when she felt she had accomplished something important.

"My love... is there something wrong?"

Leo laughed, a little too energetically her husband thought. "What could be wrong, the speeches are over and it's time for dinner." She hailed a nearby waiter.

"Yes, ma'am, what would you like to order?"

"Do you serve Klingon cuisine?"

He nodded smugly. "Yes, of course."

"Excellent!" Her focus wandered for a moment to the garden portal on the far side of the room before returning to the waiter.

"I have a taste for something cold."

* * *

**A/N: Forgive me for this little fit of Trek Noir. It's a bit Rod Serling-ish with a soupcon of Alfred Hitchcock. I hope Dixon Hill would approve...**


End file.
